


Bathing With Benedict

by DreadPirateWestley



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Bathing, Bathtub, F/M, Prompt Fill, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadPirateWestley/pseuds/DreadPirateWestley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romantic bath time with Benedict, capped by getting to shave off his scraggly mountain man beard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathing With Benedict

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written to fill this prompt at BCSF: Bathing w/ Benedict. Not in a sexy way, but in a romantic way. I’m talking big tub, room lit by candlelight only, bubbles or rose petals in the water….Laying back against him, his arms folded around you, feeling ALL of him along your whole body….feeling him rumble against your back while you talk…..Finished off by shaving him. Think about it—getting to touch and stare at his face all you like, having him watching you the whole time, very close and very intimate, sharing breath…..
> 
> (Also the only fic I've ever read where the OFC actually asks Benedict NOT to take off his clothes!)

       You sighed rather loudly as you sank into the water, its temperature perfect, but there was no one to hear. The flat was dark, every window shut, the only light from a half dozen candles flickering softly throughout the bathroom. You gathered some bubbly suds all around you, breathing in their lavender scent as you settled your head back against the carefully positioned bath pillow. If you could sleep in this tub without the threat of drowning, you absolutely would.

       This week had been hell - late nights, early mornings and unreasonable expectations at the office. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday. Saturday would start with no alarm clock, a leisurely brunch consisting of your favourite mushroom omelette made by your favourite boyfriend and then all day in bed showing him how much you’d missed him. You’d seen him every day this week, but your schedules were out of sync and it was all you could do to remember if you’d even kissed him before you left for work. Night shoots meant Benedict slept during much of the day, and was gone when you returned home. He managed to text you occasionally, but it was a poor substitute for having him around all the time. You missed his face.

       Ah, Benedict. He would be in very late tonight, at which time you would be blissfully unconscious. You slept like the dead, and he knew better than to wake you anyway, after the week you’d had. You imagined waking up tomorrow, feeling him curled around you warmly, his hair unruly and eyes bleary. You wiggled your toes in the warm water and giggled softly at the thought.

       A familiar floor squeak made you turn your head toward the bedroom, squinting into the darkness. A distant but familiar “Hellooooo?” made you roll your eyes and stifle a laugh. Someone was home early. Benedict’s form, clad in jeans and t-shirt, moved toward the bathroom door and came to stand there, leaning against the frame. You did not look at him.

       “Room for me?” You could _hear_ his smile.

       “No, there most certainly isn’t. You’re supposed to be working. No! Don’t you dare take off your clothes!!”

       It was too late. Shirt and jeans discarded, he slipped off his boxers and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, make room.” Resigned to his stubborn playfulness, you scooted forward as he stepped into the tub. Soon enough you were leaning back against his body, his warm chest taking the place of your bath pillow. His hands moved up and down your arms as he placed a kiss against your temple, and if you weren’t so tired and cranky, the full contact would have gone straight to your head, and somewhere else. You took a deep breath and relaxed against him.

       “Why the _hell_ are you home so early?” you said, with a bit more biting irritation than you probably should have. He laughed loud and long at this, and as he did you pressed your ear flat against him to listen to the rumble it made in his chest.

       “We finished a bit ahead of schedule is all. Did I interrupt your evening?” One of his hands was rubbing your stomach, the other kneading at the knot near the base of your neck. You gripped the edges of the tub and tried not to sound as annoyed as before. You weren’t really, just tired.

       “I was going to face-plant directly on the bed after this – well, after inhaling some left over pizza. So yes, you did interrupt. _Stop that!_ ” His hand had crept up to your breast. You swatted it away and attempted to turn around and glare at him. “ _Benedict_. I’m serious. I’m exhausted. If I could be sure you wouldn’t fall asleep and let us drown, I’d pass out right now.”

       He slowly entwined his fingers in your hair and began massaging your scalp. He chuckled softly. “You could’ve drowned all by yourself. See there, I’ve saved you from an embarrassing obituary.”

       His lips found your temple again, and you turned your face toward him, nuzzling into his cheek. A few days’ worth of stubble greeted you, an unfortunate side effect of the role in the film he was currently shooting. You’d been promised it would be gone by Saturday, and fully expected to wake up to a clean shaven Ben. Struck with an idea, you sat up and turned around to face him.

       “Are we done with the crazy mountain man look for now?” You gestured at him with your forefinger. He grinned madly at you and grabbed it as it swirled around his face.

       “I’ve been told I can shave, yes.”

       “Then it’s coming off, right now. I’m bloody tired of being scratched in my sleep. And every time you kiss me.” You pushed away from him and stood up, which was difficult with him still attached to your finger. Snatching your hand back playfully, you carefully stepped out of the tub to look for shaving gel and a razor. You saw his whole body angle toward you out of the corner of your eye, and he was clearly ogling your naked form, something you did with each other quite unashamedly. Grabbing your own shaving gel (lavender scented as well) and a new disposable blade (pink) you moved slowly back to the tub, his eyes moving up and down your body purposefully as you did so.

       “Here,” you said, placing the can directly in front of his face, interrupting his view.

       “Er, this isn’t what I normally use…” He smirked at the purple can with its flowers and loopy, decidedly feminine logo. You grabbed it back from him as you settled into the water, feet tucked under you and his legs straddling your body.

       “Sorry. My bath, my rules.” You dispensed some gel into your left hand and moved toward his face with it. He balked and put up both hands.

       “Hang on!” He cupped his hands in the bath water and thoroughly wet his face and neck, scrubbing hastily at his stubble. When he was done he gripped either side of the tub lightly and looked at you seriously. “All right.”

       You smirked at him as you began rubbing the gel onto his face, watching it turn white, blotting out his scraggly beard. You were careful not to cover up his sideburns (he had worked hard to grow them out just so) and to spread the lather down his long neck as well. He watched you intently, his lips coming very close to yours a few times as you drew nearer him to inspect the coverage. Satisfied, you felt around under the water for the razor, only to have him hold it out to you and pull it back as you reached for it.

       “Do you even know what you’re doing?” He let you grasp the razor on your second try.

       “No. No, I do not. Hold still.”

       With new found energy, you grasped the back of his neck with your left hand to steady him as much as yourself and gently drew the blade down his left cheek, in the same way you’d seen him do a thousand times. His eyes suddenly crinkled in a smile that quickly went away with a playful squeeze to the back of his neck. With each downward stroke, your satisfaction grew as his beautiful face was freed of its hairy prison. Careful though you were around his lips and sideburns, you nonetheless felt the enormous amount of trust he was placing in you. His face was his livelihood, after all, and if you were to cut him accidentally, it could muck up any production he was involved in. You marveled at how good he must have gotten at shaving over the years, as you’d never known him to cut himself. You wished your own legs faired half as well. Suddenly hyper-aware that you could foul this up at any moment, you paused when you came to his neck.

       “Er, I think maybe you should finish up.” Holding out the pink razor, you reached for the hand mirror you kept near the sink and held it up in front of him. Benedict looked at you quizzically for a second, then, perhaps sensing that you weren’t quite as confident as when you’d started this little endeavour, took the razor and placed his hand on yours, positioning the small mirror at just the right height. Peeking over the mirror as he angled his head one way and then the other, you watched as he elegantly rid his slightly pink skin of one long line of soap, then another, until his neck was free of stubble. Before he could even submerge the razor and lift some of the still warm water to rinse his face, you’d reached out with one hand to stroke his now smooth skin. You sat the mirror up on the sink and inched closer to him, nuzzling your cheek firmly against his and hearing his very sharp intake of breath in your ear. His arms slowly enfolded you, pulling you against him.

       “Not bad,” he said into your neck, his now smooth cheek rubbing a heated path along yours. You smiled and pulled back to kiss him softly. He still had patches of soapy white on his face, and you could feel that some of it had transferred to your chin. “Maybe I should let you give me a shave every morning.”

       “If it means I never have to be scratched by unsightly stubble again, I’ll take the job.”

       “It’s yours.” He smiled and glanced down. “You still in a hurry to get to bed? This is awfully nice, isn’t it?” By way of agreeing, you smiled and wiggled your body around to situate yourself against him. He wrapped his arms across your chest and all at once you felt snug and safe. A rather loud sigh of contentment escaped your lips.

       All in all, you were quite glad he’d interrupted your evening.


End file.
